Battle for Cymmera. Dani-Lyn Alexander
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“The wilds of Argonas, sir.” His sword clanked against his armor as he shifted from one foot to the other. “A courier arrived only moments ago and delivered the scroll to Darius Knight. I don’t know much, only that it was quite vague, but he told me to bring it to you immediately. He’s calling the council to order as we speak. They will meet you in chambers.”
“Thank you.” Jackson nodded a dismissal, and the guard left.
Jackson started forward with Ryleigh at his side.
Max fell into step in his accustomed position beside her.
As Queen of Cymmera, she would accompany Jackson to the Council Chambers where they would have a meeting about the logistics, but in the end, Chayce Maynard had already been tried and sentenced to death for treason. Her part in that sentencing still gnawed at her gut. The traitor had tortured Jackson pretty much to death, kidnapped Mia, and done who knows what to her, betrayed his kingdom, his father, his brother. Yet, sentencing a man to death and actually enforcing his execution were two very different things, the second of which Ryleigh wasn’t sure she had the stomach for.
* * * *
Jackson strode toward the Council Chambers.
“Hey, wait up.”
He’d almost forgotten Ryleigh was at his side, her stride much shorter than his. He slowed his pace for her and Max to catch up, then resumed his trek toward whatever dilemma awaited him. His long anticipated confrontation with Chayce didn’t seem quite as appealing now that the time had apparently come.
“Are you all right?” She slid her ice-cold hand into his.
Like all Cymmeran men, he’d been devoid of feelings until he met his destined mate, and emotions that hadn’t burdened him for hundreds of years before he met Ryleigh battered him now. Images of Chayce as a young boy, running with Jackson, imitating him while he practiced with his sword. What had happened to the boy who’d once looked up to him with such admiration?
He forced the memories into a corner of his mind where they couldn’t torment him. Indulging in ridiculous memories from a lifetime ago served no purpose. They no longer held a place in his heart.
If he couldn’t recapture the cold indifference he’d indulged in before Ryleigh, he’d do better to harness the rage and betrayal Chayce brought to the surface. At least those feelings might allow him to do what was necessary.
Another image came unbidden. Chayce, flail held high, eyes filled with contempt and hatred before his weapon slammed into Jackson’s side.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.” He loosened his hold on Ryleigh’s hand, but she only gripped his tighter.
“It’s all right.” She frowned as she studied him.
He shifted his gaze away from hers. Ryleigh was too intuitive, too in tune with him. No sense letting her see his conflict. She’d probably want to talk about it. That was the last thing he needed.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m Fine.”
“You know, Jackson—”
“Yes, Ryleigh.” He stopped and faced her, releasing his death-grip on her hand. “I do know. I know exactly what I have to do, exactly where my responsibilities lie, and exactly how this must end.”
They’d had this discussion before, numerous times, and he couldn’t handle it right now. Chayce had to die. Period. There was no room for sympathy, no room for compassion, no room for anything but determination and strength.
Given the chance, Chayce would destroy Cymmera and everyone in it. Chayce would be strong. He would be decisive. He would not lack the courage to achieve his goal.
Knowing that didn’t make Jackson’s mission any easier. “There’s no other choice, Ryleigh.”
His father had ruled this kingdom with an iron fist. It couldn’t always have been easy. Yet, he’d never bowed under the pressure, never caved no matter how difficult the circumstances. Even at the moment of his death, he’d remained strong enough to pass on the knowledge his oldest son would need to rule Cymmera. Too bad Jackson hadn’t been strong enough to see and accept it sooner.
“Let’s go.” He continued toward the chambers without taking Ryleigh’s hand again. His feelings for Ryleigh made him soft. He would have to get a grip on them. If he was going to have emotions, so be it, but he’d be damned if he’d allow them to get in the way of his responsibility to his kingdom. Again.
He pushed through the door of the Council Chambers into chaos. The Council heads had already gathered, as had the Death Dealers, the Queen’s Army, and a few of the upper Cymmeran Guard members. News traveled fast in Cymmera. “What’s going on in here?”
“Sir.” Elijah, the prophet and Jackson’s most trusted advisor, dropped to his knee in greeting.
The others in the room followed his lead. An undercurrent of excitement sizzled in the strained silence and continued as the men and one woman rose to their feet. There should have been two female council members present, Tatiana Storm, head of the Disciplinary Council, and Mia, Ryleigh’s closest advisor. Mia’s absence, in addition to the odd behavior she’d been exhibiting lately, heightened Jackson’s concern. He’d have to check on her when this was done.
Jackson and Ryleigh took their places at the center of the horseshoe-shaped, stone table. The other twelve council heads stood at attention behind their seats, six on either side of the table, waiting for Jackson and Ryleigh to be seated. The Death Dealers and all eight members of the Queen’s Army, along with the few Guardsmen, lined the back wall.
Dakota Knight, head of the Advisory Council and Jackson’s partner on the Death Dealer team, stood at his left, Ryleigh at his right. Together, Jackson and Ryleigh sat.
Max settled at Ryleigh’s right, between her and Mia’s empty seat.
Chairs scraped against the stone floor. Voices rose as everyone struggled to be heard. Papers and books rustled and thumped against the table, echoing through the chamber.
Dakota leaned close to Jackson. “Do you think it’s true?”
“I don’t even know what it is yet, Dakota.” And he’d never find out if he didn’t restore some sense of order to these proceedings. He slammed the gavel against the tabletop.
A tense hush fell over them.
“Darius. Explain.”
Darius Knight, head of the Security Council, approached the podium in the center of the horseshoe. “Sir. I have received word of your br—uh, Chayce Maynard.” Everyone knew better than to refer to that traitor as Jackson’s brother in his presence, but he’d have to forgive an occasional slip. Old habits and all that.
“Tell me.” He tossed the unread scroll onto the table. He’d read it later, when he was alone. For now, he wanted the interpretation of his most trusted consultants.
Darius threw up his hands and shook his head. “I don’t honestly know, Your Majesty. The information seems credible, yet… I can’t be sure.” He smoothed his dark hair. The silence amplified the creak of his long leather jacket.
Jackson gave him time to collect his thoughts, even though he wanted to leap over the table, shake the man, and demand to know if he understood the urgency of the situation. He folded his hands and set them on the table. A pose his father had often taken. Jackson couldn’t help wondering if his father’s insides had boiled with the same turmoil Jackson’s now did while maintaining that outward impression of calm.
“We have received word of a strange old man living in the wilds of Argonas. Not just the forests, but the coldest, harshest, most dangerous land in the realm. Survival there would be near impossible.” Darius rested his hands on the podium and hung his head. When he lifted it, his expression had hardened. “At least, it would be for anyone other than the strongest